Scarfy and Sorty's Magical Marriage
by VivyPotter
Summary: When the sorting hat sobs by the lake, a certain scarf of sexuality comes a'calling. And he has a proposition. An AVPM fanfiction. Scarfy/Sorty.


_This is fanfiction based on a fan-made musical of Harry Potter called **A Very Potter Musical**. All rights go to Starkid and JK._

_So there's no category for AVPM, which I personally believe is wrong. Maybe because it's a parody... But Holy Musical B man has one... so shouldn't AVPM? Let's get one! Come, rebel with me! _

_So anyway, if you haven't watched it, this won't make much sense. So don't read it. Or, alternatively, you could go and watch AVPM, _then_ read this. Go one- you know you want to._

* * *

><p>The sorting hat cried, tears rolling down his polished brim. "Oh woe is me," he sobbed beside the lake, growing steadily wet and soggy.<p>

And then came the scarf. He soared through the air, gorgeous tassels flowing in the breeze. He settled beside the hat, and Sorty privately thought that he was the most beautiful piece of clothing he had ever seen.

Yeah, _privately_… or so he thought.

"I'm teleclothing too, you know. I can hear your thoughts," the scarf teased lowly, sunlight causing the stripes of colour across his back to glow.

Sorty spluttered. "What? No I wasn't. I would _never_-"

Scarfy floated closer to the hat and whispered lowly, "Don't worry, you're not the only one. I think you're one of the… sexiest things I have ever seen."

The sorting hat blushed. "Don't be ridiculous…" he mumbled.

"I'm not being ridiculous. It's true. That fabric, those tears… darling, you are totally rocking that rugged look. That is so _hot_."

Sorty turned red again and looked down at the ground. "Are you gay?" he asked loudly and gasped, not having meant to say it out loud.

"I'm a magical piece of clothing that sorts sexuality sweetie. How could I be _gay_? Biased much?" the scarf laughed. "But it was adorable of you to ask. And do you know what?"

Sorty lifted the tip of his hat hopefully from where it had sagged to the floor in shame.

"If I _did_ have a sexuality, I'd be…" the scarf lowered his voice secretively. "_Hatosexual_."

Sorty let out a snort of disbelief. "Shut up!"

"No, I would!" Scarfy disagreed teasingly. "It's my _job_ to know, isn't it?"

"Mmm," the hat agreed mournfully, returning to his previous sad state.

"Hey, hey!" the scarf declared. "Don't do that! Tell old Scarfy your problems and I'll make them all better." The scarf shunted closer and whispered lustily, _"I'm rather good at that."_

"Ew!" The sorting hat drew back abruptly and giggled, rather like a school girl. Then he sighed, appearing to age hundreds of years right in front of Scarfy's eyes.

"It's awful, you know. Seeing children's heads. They're just such little shits. Such _bastards_ (sometimes literally). And I've been doing it for thousands of years, ever since bloody Godric _brilliantly_ decided to stuff a conscience inside an inanimate object. And it's just so _hard_. And I just want to die most of the time, hearing yet _another_ brat whine about how unfair their life is, but how do you kill a hat? You wouldn't believe how many headmasters have tried to shut me up, but have they succeeded? I just can't _die_."

There was a long pause, filled only with the hat's sobbing breaths.

"And I _tried_- but it just- and there are so many days _alone_- and I think- and it's awful. And where did Godric get my conscience from? Was I a person? Did I- I have a family? And it's all the same. The same mistakes over and over again. And I told Albus you know. That Draco kid has issues with his dad and Harry Potter really needs an attitude adjustment. And Ron Weasley's too much of a follower, and poor Hermione really needs a self-esteem boost. And you know what? I could say the exact same about every generation. There's a Harry Potter, a Ron Weasley, a Hermione Granger, a Dra- okay, there's never been anyone quite like Malfoy before. But- just- what's the _point_?" Hat turned to the scarf who was staring at him dazedly.

"I'm sorry," Scarfy apologised absent-mindedly. "You lost me somewhere around the Godric bit. Did you know you have a rather _magnificent_ rip underneath your right eye?"

"Hey! Don't look at my lining!" Sorty shouted in outrage, colour spreading furiously across his fabric as he turned away.

"How can I not when it's so… _red_?" A perverted grin spread across the scarf's face.

"Stop it!"

Scarfy sighed resignedly. "Okay fine. Look, the way I see it, you need to get out."

Sorty gasped in horror. "But I can't-"

"I'm not suggested you hop on a plane and never come back," Scarfy rolled his eyes. "Honestly darling, stop being so dramatic. Just for a year or so."

"But I need a valid reason. Albus won't just let his sorting-"

"Marry me."

"WHAT?"

"Marry me. Albus is a hopeless romantic, there's no way he'll deny two pieces of clothing their honeymoon."

"But I barely know you!" Sorty protested. "I need to _know_ you to get married!"

Scarfy snorted. "Have you _been_ to Vegas?"

"No."

"Right. Vegas first it is, then."

"I don't- I really think I should object-"

"Sh darling. Let me do all the talking."

And then he kissed him. Just to shut him up, of course.

They never mentioned the second honeymoon they went on a year later. It was rather confusing to be assured by two married items of clothing that 'it was the real thing, this time' and then go off to get married _again_.

But Scarfy and Sorty didn't care. After all, with names like those, you have to take all you can get.


End file.
